


Be My Best Nightmare

by Johnlocked221b



Series: Dracula Reader Inserts [1]
Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Sleepy Cuddles, coffin cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlocked221b/pseuds/Johnlocked221b
Summary: You are one of Dracula's brides (a gender neutral term in 2020 Dracula). You have a nightmare and seek out the Count for some sleepy cuddles. (It's better than this summary, I promise).
Relationships: Dracula/Reader, Dracula/You
Series: Dracula Reader Inserts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744120
Comments: 8
Kudos: 96





	Be My Best Nightmare

You awake with a start, sitting up in your bed with a hand over your heaving chest. The dream that had awoken you was nothing short of terrifying, and you’re shaking at the memory of it.

_Flames danced along the castle walls, reaching up with furious heat to consume the only home you had ever known. You knelt, wailing in the grass as the angry townspeople around you shouted horrible names – “Devil!” “Monster!” – and threw flaming molotovs into the windows. You could hear the screaming of your beloved husband as he battled with staying inside his burning home or stepping out into the sunlight where he would surely be turned to dust. Suddenly, his cloak was consumed by the greedy flames and he went up like kindling, howling in agony and despair. You tried to run to him, crying “No! No, put him out! He hasn’t done it! He’s innocent!” but you were held back by your waist. You were forced to watch as the only man who had ever touched you with kindness was taken from the world._

As you stare at the covered window, beams of orange and rising sunlight peeking from the curtains as they flutter in the breeze, you are consumed with the need to _see_ him. To make sure he is still here; not _alive_ , not _breathing_ , but still here, with you. Your socked feet gently touch the carpeted stone of the floor and you push your hair from your face as you look around your room. You do not know the time but guess that it must be around five or six in the morning. Dracula is surely sleeping by now; deep within the heart of the castle. Avoiding the lines of sunlight striped across your bedroom floor, you tiptoe along the edge of the room to the door that separates you from the rest of Castle Dracula.

_

Dracula left you ignorant of where he lay during the daylight hours; content to keep you as his bride but at arm’s length. For a long while, you spent most of your time in The Box, cramped and bathed in darkness. Your only company were the cats that he sometimes fed you through the hollow glass sphere, and the brides stuffed within the other boxes – though they never spoke and only moaned in pain and hunger. One of his brides, his least favorite of the three, was fed only flies. Poor dear. You had been nothing more than an experiment, but as time wore on, you began to long for his visits, even if they were only to feed you and the others.

He hummed as he did so, a different tune every time. He was such a cultured man, that Dracula, and he hummed sweet melodies in a deep voice of honeyed molasses. When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the waves of the cello and the bright tittering of the flute. You had always loved music; attending orchestras and operas in your home country before you were lured into his arms and further, into his home deep within the Carpathian Mountains.

Most of all, you remembered his hands. Large, with long fingers, and callused from battles fought before your time. His sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows whenever he fed you and you had to fight the desire to reach out and drag your fingertips along the prominent vein that ran the length of his forearm. Once, when you attempted to touch his hand, he’d jerked it back so quickly that it shook the box you were in. He said nothing, but simply locked the small door and walked away, leaving you to your meal and the lonely darkness for another three days.

The next time he’d come, humming like nothing had happened, you pressed your ear against the box, fingernails bloody from scratching the day’s tally into the wood under your cheek. You recognized the tune and softly, began to hum along with him.

“ _In The Hall of the Mountain King_.” You said when he’d stopped humming. “Now that is appropriate.” Smiling at your own joke, you pulled your knees to your chest and waited. You heard slow footsteps approaching and they stopped nearest the corner opposite you.

“You know music.” He stated, the first bit of conversation proposed to you in nearly half a year. He wasn’t asking. He knew.

“A bit,” You answered anyway, growing hopeful. “I was learning to play the mandolin before…coming here.” You did not want to disappoint him or scare him away. “I dabbled in the piano.”

You could nearly hear Dracula contemplating your statements, but soon it grew so eerily quiet and you were afraid that he’d left.

“I could play for you!” You told him, desperate to be out of the box. “And if I am not good enough, I can get better.”

More silence.

Then, the sound of the door unlatching. A sound you hadn’t heard in 174 days.

You’ve been Dracula’s personal musician for the better part of a year, growing more comfortable with the keys as the days went on. Dracula, of course, owns only the best instruments, and brings to you experts in the fields of string and keys so that you might drink from them and learn pieces played for his ear alone.

You love playing for him, but a larger part of you wishes to dance with him instead.

_

Tiptoeing through the shadows of the castle and holding a lamp in your right hand, you reach a set of stairs leading down into what seems to be a cellar. Just down those stairs and through a dark passage, where you were forbidden from going, lay the man you longed for. Dracula had opened his home to you, allowing you free reign of the rest of the castle, but the corridors beyond these stairs were off limits. It was not unfair, you know that. Dracula is, above all things, fair. He is the picture of politeness; a true gentleman in all ways – kind, strong, gentle and generous. You are so fond of him that it hurts and have even began referring to him as your husband. Should a bride not have a groom?

Before you can change your mind, you take your first step down into the darkness. Your left hand caresses the stone wall beside you and your eyes struggle to adjust to the shadows beyond your light. Shadows which you had discovered one early morning, before the sun had come up, when curiously following Dracula to this storage room beneath his castle. He’d floated down the corridors and then simply disappeared like he was made of nothing and you hadn’t mentioned it that night at dinner. The only discussion he’d made of it was to implore you to avoid going down those stairs again; pointing out that the rest of the castle and its grounds were yours to roam. You did not ask why but nodded in agreement and continued playing for him a familiar tune.

Once again, you enter the storage room and brush your hands along the top of one of the wooden boxes. You are sure the contents could tell a great many stories; secrets of Dracula’s past. There must be hundreds of these crates in the room, stacked taller than you stand. Each of the crates are nailed tightly shut and briefly, you consider spending some time in here, prying them open and diving into a bit of a history lesson. What sort of treasures lay within these boxes, forgotten in the dark and the mildew? What sort of memories would Dracula have squirreled away down here?

The squeak of a rather large rat scurrying across your foot breaks you from your enchantment. The contents of these boxes are none of your business. You do not wish to be any more rude than you are already being by entering a place where you have been forbidden. You do not want to anger your master and end up in that box again. The thought alone sends a cold rush down your spine and you proceed, past the towers of wooden crates, and further into yet another dark and narrow corridor.

The very next room you come upon is a dead end and is largely taken up by a large stone crypt, upon which is chiseled the surname ‘DRACULA’. Separating the A from the C is fissure that extends from one end to the other, wider in separation in some places than others. Slowly, you creep around to the other end of the room and peer down at the crest split in half by the fracture in the stone, however, something else catches your eye and you raise your lamp to see clearly.

Smooth skin upon a relaxed, sleeping face. The sharp slope of a nose, dark brows, and long, black lashes that brush just the very tops of his cheeks. At the corner of his lips is just the faintest smear of blood. The rest of his face is marked with lines of his age in life, made even more beautiful in the innocence of sleep. Dracula, your master, lies in this box – his burial casket; a place meant for eternal sleep. It smells of earth and is intoxicating in its contents.

Slowly, his eyes open and it startles you. Gasping, you step back as Dracula reaches up and pushes the stone slabs aside like they weigh nothing. “M-master!” You cry out, holding your hands up in surrender. His teeth are borne and his eyes red; disturbed from his deathly sleep by a disobedient bride. Slowly, he rises from his grave and you, shaking like a leaf, begin to beg his forgiveness. “I am sorry, master. I am sorry to have disturbed you from your slumber. Please, I am not here to harm you.”

He approaches you, soft growls bubbling from the back of his throat. “Then what for?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You answer and even to your ears it sounds childish. “Nightmares. Horrible dreams…I- needed to see that you were still…” You stop to take a breath, meeting his eyes for only a moment before averting them to the ground once more.

In the light of the lamp, you notice that his eyes have begun to lose the red in his iris. His shoulders relax and despite your worry, he hasn’t attacked. Instead of taking you for his next meal, he simply sighs and leans against the slab of stone covering his dreary bed. You watch the vampire pinch the bridge of his aquiline nose and then slide his palm further down his face to pinch at the corners of his lips and clean them of any remaining blood. “You know, there is a reason why I asked you not to come down here. It’s _dangerous_.” He sounds exhausted; defeated.

You don’t speak, afraid of angering him. You simply nod. He looks over at you, brows pinched in the middle as he regards you for the longest few seconds of your life. “I don’t think I was being unreasonable.”

“No,” You finally say, lowering your head once more.

“No,” He repeats and licks his lips, studying you for a long moment, “Come on then.”

You lift your head in surprise, meeting those dark eyes which, for a moment, seem amused at your disbelief. “M-master?”

“I said, come on. Climb in.” Dracula gestures into the tomb and tilts his head in a manner that you would say is almost adorable. “I am _very_ tired, and I can see that you are as well. Or is this not what you were seeking me for?”

“I-“ You start. Surely, he cannot be serious. He wants you to sleep _with him_ , in _there_? Slowly, you take a step closer and glance inside. There isn’t a pillow or even a blanket. Just stone and earth. You hesitate.

“You’re welcome to go back to your own bed if this isn’t up to your standards.” The count offers, fingers curling around the slab on either side of his thighs.

“No,” You say a little too quickly. Return to your bed and pass up a chance to sleep next to the man you’ve been pining over for months? The choice was obvious. “No, I- this is fine. Perfect.”

The count’s dark brows raise and then lower in amusement. “Perfect, is it? I’d say that’s being generous but given the things that you’ve been okay with these past months, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were genuine.”

“No, it’s great. Thank you, master.” You meet his eyes, asking that he believe you.

Dracula grimaces, and for a moment, you’re worried that you’ve displeased him. “Just Dracula from now on, alright? Leave the ‘master’ business to my lawyer.” He offers his large hand and you take it, doing your best to climb into the tomb with him. Once you’re standing inside, he reaches past you, his face just centimeters from your own, eyes locked on yours as he extinguishes the lamp. You thank whichever god is listening that it is too dark for him to see the rush of red in your cheeks. You are absolutely gone on this man; he has to know it.

You watch as he lies down in the shadow of the tomb and peers up at you. Before he can say a word, you sit beside him, as best as you can given the space that you have. You glance at him again and bite your bottom lip when you feel his hand on your back. “You’re overthinking it.” He tells you. “Lie down, now. You can use me as a pillow. Any part of me you wish.”

You take a deep breath and then gradually lower yourself into a prone position. Carefully, the count curls his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer so that your cheek rests on his left pectoral. He is surprisingly warm, and you begin to relax when he uses his other arm to pull the slabs closed above you. Bathed now in darkness, you bury yourself further into his side and smile when you feel his soft breath rustling your hair. Despite the cold earth beneath your bodies and the inherent danger in falling asleep next to a vampire, this is a dream. He is solid in your arms; real and broad and not ashes on the ground.

You feel the gentle press of his palm against your cheek and then soft lips against your forehead that sends a wave of warmth and content through your body.

“Sweet dreams, my darling bride. Let the beautiful children of the night carry away those dark dreams and replace them with only peace.”

You close your eyes and allow his voice to carry you away.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr: https://tinyurl.com/yabx5z5f


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